Here they come, here they come,
Riding on the backs of horses from doom,
Dressed in black with the stench of gloom,
Kicking the dust of grief’s kingdom.
An outcast calls out with burning flesh,
For help, as they pick the mongrel by the hair,
And drag the mutilated soul through deserted streets,
While witches watch in glee and blind rats stare.

Here they come, here they come,
Whipping to life the struggling mist,
As God giggles from behind a stormy cloud,
Watching the weathered immortal resist.
The skies open up to cast a darker shade,
On a world that has forgotten the light of day,
The dance in hell has reached its peak,
As bleeding doves cry and the idols speak.

Here they come, here they come,
Saddled in sorrow and strapped in vain,
Breathing fire from their melting faces,
Drenching themselves in the acid rain.
They are here to stay, there are here to burn,
They are here to take you to a better place,
They are here to pray, so you never return,
Back to this world that you have set ablaze.

There they go, there they go,
Leaving behind an echo of the broken bell,
They will return, this much He knows,
To take another unclaimed soul from hell.